Oh, I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that I am one of them. – Sherlock

I Do So Swear…

That my testes traveled to my shoulderblades in record time (mere microseconds), beat only by the puckering of my butt so tightly that a singularity was formed. (Run guys, run with that joke… RUN)

Seriously… I can’t watch it. I can watch autopsies, watch surgeries, compounded bones, gooshed limbs, ok. But this, because of my neck sends me screaming out of the room like an 8 year old girl.

Next week I’ll show the video where he gets beat out by the man who can turn his head 181 degrees.

More later if I have the energy. Hard day. Check back and I’ll probably have something.

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Note: Fair warning, I am/was in House mode – I’m trying to get the house ready for the out-laws (in-laws) and damaging myself to do it. Cruel Wife deserves to be able to show her folks a back room that isn’t a pile of shiat and has all the frames around the windows, doors, and closets put up. As you can guess, I get… intense, when I hurt badly.

Here we have a woman bitching that when her mother died she was more in touch with her cat more than her. Had she written to this columnIt’s All About Me, Dr. Lemur, why my response below would have been quite different.

Q. Dealing With My Mother’s Death: My mother died in February after a long battle with cancer. She and I live in different countries but always tried to see each other a few times a year. I also have a sister who lives about two hours from my parents’ house. My mother knew for some time that the end was near. My sister and I asked time and time again to see her, but we were told by her and my father that she didn’t want to see us and that she wanted us to remember her as she was. While I was upset about this, I wasn’t going to argue or upset her. The day after she died, my father called me to tell me she had died. He mentioned several times that she died peacefully while looking at photos of their cat and that her last words were to the effect that my father should look after the cat. Now, I know my parents love this cat, but I am hurt and upset that she had nothing to say about either my sister or me or any of our children (her grandkids). Fast forward to her obituary, which did not mention any of her grandchildren by name but had several sentences about the cat. This was an obituary that my mother wrote herself about six months before she died. I am struggling now, as I feel angry, and then guilty that I am angry. I feel like actual human family members are more important than feline ones. I want to get past this and have positive memories of my mother, but I am hurt by being cut out of her final moments and her favoritism of a cat, which sounds ridiculous, I know!

A. Dr. Lemur: Cut the lady some slack you little ingrate. The woman took care of you for eighteen years – fed, cleaned you, tended your boo-boos, listened to your inanest utterances, and sought reasons daily to NOT kill you as a teenager. You moved to a different country and I’d guess that you and your little snowflakes visited when it was convenient. But by the time was growing near she felt she looked hideous and didn’t want to spoil your memory of her. Yes, ultimately it is a vanity thing. She doesn’t love you any less (although she might be tempted by your lack of empathy) The woman was dying. Her cats never cared in the least what she looked like – it is easy unconditional love and they were with her all the time, they were her children in the here and now. What you won’t see until you choose to stop being so self-centered is that your mother was doing what she thought was the kindest thing possible by not letting you see her dying. As for an obit, it’s hers to write. If your family all loved her they would know that the obituary is for the acquaintances and describes her life – there’s nothing that says she has to account for each and every offspring. If you all loved her, remember her for the reasons you loved her and celebrate her life and get off your self-importance merry-go-round. Life was slowly being taken away from her – her friends, her hobbies, her loves, her health, her mobility, and lastly it took away her sense of self-worth and then her life. Let her have her cats. They weren’t taken from her and she was doing the best she could do at the time in that situation. Go pop your angry balloon, have a beer, get laid, and if you’re still whiny, punch yourself in the face five or six times – hard. If the problem still persists, you’re just a bitch and there’s really no help for that.

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Ok, see the x-ray through the side of a semi-truck which shows lots of illegal aliens? There’s a certain amount of radiation that is required to peer through the truck sides… how many BED’s‡ did those people get? Is it considered cruel and inhumane to subject these people (who were whisked away from their homes to work here illegally) to high exposures of x-rays? Should we stop using this awful method of enforcing borders when we should be giving everyone amnesty and instant green cards?

‡ Banana Equivalent Dose. The amount of radiation exposure you get from eating a banana. For me, I always read BED and think back to PATEOTS units as proposed by Neal Stephenson, which illustrates some Highly Toxic Substance X that can do Scary Thing Y with a quantity that fits on a “Period At The End Of This Sentence”.

Note: If you can’t recognize my humane/amnesty/green-card statements as sarcasm, you need to go someplace else.

Seriously, you think so? Sheesh, you eat one person’s liver and you’re marked for life. I mean, talk about being labeled. It’s not likely that once he killed and dismembered his friend would need that liver anymore.

A man who won $2 million [has admitted] that he still uses food stamps.

Leroy Fick [snip] admitted he still swipes the electronic card at stores, nearly a year after winning a jackpot [snip] that more than half the prize went to taxes.

Fick says the Department of Human Services told him he could continue to use the card, which is paid with tax dollars. He told WNEM: “If you’re going to … try to make me feel bad, you aren’t going to do it.”

This is how you recognize a broken entitlement system. One that allow people to feel entitled long after there is any need for them to take government money. He should be fined for every penny retroactively that he used on food stamps since the day he collected his prize plus another 20% just for being an a$$hole.

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Find me examples of pathetic whingers and I’ll be sure to pass them on to Dr. Lemur. He can be as choosy as he is eccentric but there’s always a mostly uneaten burrito, greasy fried chicken, or a cold clump of lumpy mashed potatoes in the dump truck of life, and from there all manner of awful things shall pass.

That was an awful metaphor wasn’t it? I knew greasy fried chicken wasn’t as good as overcooked fish, but it is better to forge on with something that isn’t perfection than waste a lot of time and effort overanalyzing everything until all hope of joy has been crushed. At least that’s my assumption until something proves this approach is all bullshiat.

Heck yeah! CW has pretty much insisted that we’re going. It’ll be fun. Lots of chicks with the push-up thing, some of which should NOT be wearing that stuff, and every so often you see someone with an amazing outfit – impeccably done and not at all contrived or off-cliche (just made that term up – mean it in the sense of milk that is ever so slightly sour).

My Personal “Things” – Don’t Peek

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